


little and broken (but still good)

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8529997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: She will be fine, he tells himself, even if it takes time and a dog to get there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Emma and David. Emma and a dog. found families. that is all.

She is silent through the whole car ride to Storybrooke. Well, she has been silent ever since she entered the office, back in the group home an hour ago, when David came to pick her up. He tries not to be too unsettled by this – he did read her file and they did warn him she was a difficult case. He expected it to happen, he knew what he was getting himself into.

It doesn’t make the silence any less uncomfortable, though.

He switched on the radio at some point, asked her if she minds country music, even made a joke about how it’s the only kind of music she’ll been hearing from now on. It didn’t make her smile. It didn’t manage to get a reaction out of her at all, if only a sideway glance before she focused back on staring at the landscape past the window.

David really forces himself not to sigh deeply. He knows he’s doing a good thing, taking her in – he has a stable job at the sheriff station now, and they no longer fear the farm being sold out, his mother no longer fears being kicked out of her own home. He’s doing good, if he says so himself, and he could do with feeling useful, feeling like he matters. He’s always wanted to be a father anyway, even if Kathryn didn’t want any children, even before things started getting rocky between them. Even before the divorce.

David simply didn’t expect to be so thrown off-balance by a teenager angry at the world. The frown looks like a permanent fixture between her eyebrows, her nails leaving indents in her palms from tightening her fists so much, and he doesn’t even want to touch the fact that she only comes with the tiniest backpack he’s ever seen in his life. The nearest mall is an hour and a half ride away from Storybrooke. Maybe he’ll get Ingrid Arendelle’s nieces to go shopping with Emma. God knows she’s in need of a change of clothes. Something nice. Something that actually fits her, even with the skinny elbows and the poking collarbones.

She doesn’t say anything, not even when she gets out of the car and into the house, not even when he shows her the living room and where the tv remote is, the bathroom and where they stock toilet paper, the little cupboard under the stairs. That one makes her smile, thought, and David makes a mental note of ordering the set of Harry Potter DVDs on Amazon tonight. His battered copies are already waiting to be read, on a shelf in the living room.

It’s only once in the kitchen that he hears her voice. Not about food, or asking for a glass of milk, or wondering where the cutlery is. No, no, when she finally speaks, it’s about something different altogether, something unexpected.

“You have a dog?”

David turns around from the cupboard he was about to open, the one with all the cereal boxes, only to find her staring at the two bowls in a corner of the room, one empty while the other is filled with water. She licks her lips, nervous, and for a moment David wonders if she is afraid of dogs, if this is going to be a problem.

“Yes, Wilby. He’s some kind of border collie, I think.”

And then she looks up at him.

And smiles.

David knows he is doomed the moment she smiles at him, while two dimples on each cheek and sparkling eyes and a little, wrinkling nose. He knows he is doomed and he will do anything to protect this girl, to love her, to make her feel loved and cared for, maybe for what will be the first time in her life. Because just the mention of a dog can brighten her day, because there is still so much innocence and pureness in that girl who went through hell since the moment she was born.

“Can I see him?”

“He’s in the garden.”

He swears he’s never seen someone run so fast in his entire life, and he’s seen Graham run after Jefferson a bunch of time before. Or well, he’s never seen someone run with such glee in their footsteps, almost leaping her way to the back door, then down the stairs between the porch and the grass.

Wilby is napping in his favourite spot by the shed, but raises his head the moment he hears someone coming his way, all curious eyes and pink tongue. He doesn’t need much probing to stand up and walk toward Emma, who is already stretching her hand out to pet him. He lets her scratch his ears and his neck, suddenly the happiest puppy on the planet, before he runs to the other side of the garden and brings her his favourite stick.

By the time David finally manages to cook a decent dish for diner – spaghetti Bolognese, and he totally had to look the recipe up on his phone – Emma is still running around, Wilby running and jumping by her side, her laughs and his barks making David smile. She will be fine, he tells himself, even if it takes time and a dog to get there.

 

…

 

He gives her a t-shirt from the station – with the sheriff’s logo on it and everything – and old sports shorts for her to sleep in, with the promise of real PJs as soon as they can. He doesn’t want to say tomorrow, because they have so many other things to do, including enrolling her in the local high school, and he doesn’t want to make false promises. But ‘soon’ seems to be fine with her, and she grabs the clothes, as well as a towel, before she locks herself in the bathroom.

The angry eyeliner is gone once she gets out, half an hour later, and with it the grim and ugly smell of the group home. She smells like David’s citrus shampoo, her hair still damp, her foot bare against the cold tilted floor. She offers David a small, tentative smile, and only nods when he asks if she wants to see her room. Discussion was minimal during diner, just enough for him to know that she likes pop tarts for breakfast (not the healthier option, but oh well) as well as hot chocolate. With cinnamon.

(He tries not to think of the cute teacher, the one who moved to Storybrooke in August and orders the exact same drink every time she comes to Granny’s.)

The sound of Wilby’s claws follow them up the stairs, and David can only dramatically roll his eyes when the dog jumps on Emma’s bed the moment he opens the door for her to enter. The exact same dog who knows he isn’t allowed on beds, or couches, or anything of the like. But it will obviously be two against one on that particular issue, and David knows to pick his battles – and that one, he would lose no matter what.

Emma nods at everything he points to her – the bed, of course, but also the desk and the stationaries he bought for her, the extra pillows on the top shelf of her wardrobe, the second set of towels just for her. She gives minimal answers at the questions he asks. If she’s okay with everything (yes), if she wants a lamp for the night (should be okay), if she needs him to turn the heating on (not for now).

Wilby puts his head on her lap when she sits on her mattress, staring at the wall in front of her, and David knows he is dismissed for the evening. He wishes her a good night, before closing the door. He’s halfway down the stairs when she cracks the door open, and he smiles to himself softly.

He smiles to himself too, hours later, when he checks on her before going to bed and finds both her and Wilby fast asleep, her arms around the dog’s body and his little pink nose pressed to her neck.

Yes, a dog and some time, and she will be more than fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cavity-inducing Christmas fluff, because reasons.

She comes to him one morning, when he’s in the kitchen reading the newspaper. Wilby is at her feet, always following Emma wherever she goes, and her jaw is set tightly, her chin high – David wonders if she will ever stop bracing herself for a fight every time she starts a conversation. She’s better with the glares now, her eyes softer than they once were, but there is still too much fire in her. Sometimes, he’s afraid she’ll burn the world down.

“Can I have some money?” she asks him, her words sharp.

He raises an eyebrow. She wanted to work at Ingrid’s ice cream parlour at first, half because she wants to earn money and half because Elsa is her only friend, but school turned out to be a lot for her. She spends her Saturdays studying instead of working, which is probably for the best. David doesn’t want her to think she can’t rely on him, financially speaking. So he gives her some pocket money each month, so she can buy herself clothes and makeup and hot cocoas at Granny’s, and makes sure to remind Emma she can ask for more if needed.

Which she is now doing.

“Sure,” he tells her with a shrug, already fishing for his wallet in his pocket. She’s low maintenance anyway, never asking for much. She binged on food for the first two weeks or so, which had David worrying a lot, but she has calmed down now. So it’s not like he can’t afford to give her some extra money. And he’s not stupid – Christmas is in two weeks, he can guess what she will do with it anyway. “How much do you need?”

“Fifty.”

“Sure,” he says again, before handing her the notes.

She stares at them, not moving. “Just like that?”

She reminds him of those animals he saw on a documentary once, that will stay still for hours until their predator finally moves away. Emma is always a prey in her own world, showing her fangs to keep up with appearances but cowering in the shadows whenever she can.

“Yeah, just like that.”

She glares at the notes for a few more seconds, before she decides that it is not a trick and snatches them from him. She folds them neatly before putting them in her pocket, and clicks her tongue to get Wilby’s attention. The dog follows her out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his claws way louder than her footsteps will ever be.

David shakes his head, and goes back to his newspaper.

 

…

 

Emma only knows Ruby vaguely, in that Ruby owns Granny’s and is always there to serve her when she goes to the dinner with Elsa and her little sister. Ruby is pretty, in a way that makes Emma both jealous and admiring – a little younger than David, always smiling, hair long and legs even longer. She took to Emma the moment they met, and Emma quickly understood why. She was raised by her grandmother, the so-called Granny, and never knew her parents either. She can relate, almost.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

Another reason why Emma likes Ruby so much – the pet names. It makes her feel important, valued. Nobody ever gave her a pet name before, but now she’s Ruby’s sweetheart and David’s kiddo, and even Killian-from-next-door’s love. She hasn’t decided if she likes the last one or not.

“Can you drive me to the mall?”

Storybrooke is a small town, only a handful of shops and places where to eat. The closest mall is a half an hour drive from there, every teenager begging their parents for a car so they can drive there during the weekends.

“Don’t you usually go with Elsa?” Ruby asks, not unkindly – more with curiosity than finding an excuse to reject Emma.

“Kristof’s car is in the shop. And the bus takes forever.”

She doesn’t pout, but it’s a close thing. Ruby hesitates, if only for a moment, before she sighs dramatically and calls after one of her waitresses. She tells the other woman to hold the fort, she will be back in three hours, and grabs her keys. Then she winks at Emma, and Emma follows her outside with a grin on her lips.

They listen to old rock songs on the way to the mall, singing along to The Police and Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones, and Emma wonders when it became so easy to laugh and smile. She’s been doing a lot of that lately – when Anna speaks so fast nobody understand, when the Jones boy gives her one of his awful pickup lines, when David falls asleep in front of the tv even if it’s barely 10pm. She feels – lighter now, softer. Like she can allow herself to sit back and enjoy the life she’s building for herself here in Storybrooke.

It is dangerous, of course – she could be sent back any day, could be kicked to a group home, could never be allowed to come back. David could grow tired of her. She could fuck up and do something so upsetting she wouldn’t be able to stay. Emma shouldn’t let herself get attached to this life – she promised herself she never would, not after the Swans, not after everything.

And yet here she is, singing with Ruby who then convinces her to start with the pet shop and to buy Wilby a Christmas Jumper and a collar with a big Christmas bell on it. Here she is, trying to decide which gift would be perfect for David. Here she is, choosing between the pale blue and the white earrings for Elsa. Here she is, settling in, making Storybrooke her home.

 

…

 

There are actual presents under the tree on Christmas morning and, try hard as she might, Emma tears up when she sees them. She never had a proper Christmas before – some families didn’t bother with the tree, let alone presents, and some made it clear that she wasn’t worth the money put into buying something nice. Christmas in group homes was better, almost – at least she didn’t have that second of expectation, that hope that perhaps it would be different this year, with this family.

But it is different this year, with David.

Emma falls to her knees in front of the tree, delicately turns over a tag. It reads, ‘To Emma with all my love, Ingrid,’ and her eyes get a little misty. There are so many presents, too many. She feels like Dudley Dursley on his birthday, only she doesn’t want more, she isn’t even sure she deserves that much.

“Looks like Santa got busy last night.”

She turns her head to David in the doorframe leading to the hallway, still in his pyjamas. He smiles at her, that soft, kind smile of his that makes her feel like she matters, before he goes to sit on the sofa.

“Looks like Santa got the wrong house,” she replies, even though her sarcasm falls flat even to her own ears. David’s smile only widens, never one to be fooled, before he nods for her to open her gifts.

She does so – a friendship bracelet from Anna, a beautiful notebook from Elsa, some books from Ingrid – before she gets distracted by Wilby. David tied a red bow to his tail, and the dog is running around trying to catch it, and Emma watches in wonder before she laughs out loud. So loudly indeed that tears pearl at the corners of her eyes, and she sits on the sofa next to David so she can catch her breath.

He waits for her to calm down, before he makes an envelope appear out of nowhere and hands it to her. Emma frowns down at it, then up at him, then down again. She takes it between her hands, and opens it slowly, before she frowns even more at the content.

“I – I don’t understand…”

“Adoption papers. You can stay here indefinitely. That is, if you’re up for it.”

Her mouth falls open at some point, her mind buzzing so loudly Emma is dizzy and lost for words and thoughts. She tastes salt on her upper lip, and only then notices that she is crying, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks and blurring her vision. And then she’s throwing herself at David, her arms so tight around his neck that he can only offer her a breathless laugh and an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“I just got you a shitty watch,” is all she finds to say.

He bursts into laugher.

 

…

 

He wears the watch with pride, when he signs the judge’s papers.


End file.
